The setting sun cast a golden hue on the Mediterranean’s westerly breakers as they crashed against the Israeli shoreline. Sophie gazed at the blue horizon thankful that the heat of the day had finally passed, then turned and stepped into the artifact tent. Professor Haasis was hunched over a papyrus scroll, his face aglow as he attempted to decipher the ancient script. Sophie smiled to herself, thinking how he resembled a wide-eyed kid in a candy shop.
“Give your brain a rest, Professor,” she said. “They’ll still be here in the morning.”
Haasis looked up with a sheepish grin. On a long table before him were spread over a dozen of the ceramic boxes, each housing an assortment of the small papyrus scrolls. He reluctantly rolled up the scroll he was examining and placed it back in one of the boxes.
“Yes, I suppose I should take a break to eat,” he said. “I just can’t help myself. It is such an amazing wealth of data. This last scroll, for example,” he said, tapping the box for emphasis, “it describes how an Anatolian merchant ship loaded with grain from Egypt was forced to seek safe harbor here when its mast shattered. Little gems like that make my heart beat faster.”
“That doesn’t exactly sound on par with the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Sophie replied with a chuckle.
“Well, the average man on the street may not care about this,” he replied, “but for those who make history their life’s work, it’s like discovering a window to the past that used to be shuttered.”
Haasis pulled off a pair of white gloves. “I really need to get these transferred to the university lab for proper analysis and conservation, but I just can’t resist taking a first look.”
He had examined all but three of the boxes by the time he stood and stretched.
“What’s become of Dirk?” he asked. “I haven’t seen him since he delivered the final box.”
Sophie shrugged her shoulders, trying to appear indifferent. But the same question had been lingering in her head. Dirk’s earlier dinner invitation had given her a rush all afternoon. She even sneaked off to wash up and to brush her hair, angry for once in her life that she hadn’t carried any makeup with her. She felt her heart stop when a figure suddenly entered the tent behind them. Spinning around, she looked in disappointment to see that it was only Sam.
“You guys ready for dinner? The mess tent is featuring spaghetti and meatballs,” he announced. A smear of red sauce on his chin revealed that he had already made a first pass through the chow line.
“Sounds great,” Haasis replied. “Come along, Sophie, let’s eat.”
The antiquities agent moved slowly toward the exit, trying hard to hide her disappointment.
“Sam,” she asked, “are we set up for tonight?”
Her assistant nodded. “Raban and Holder will be arriving within the hour. I told them we’d run surveillance till about midnight.”
“Professor Haasis has offered us a tent, so I think I will stay the night. You can hitch a ride home with the boys, if you’d rather.”
“I think I will. Sleeping on the ground isn’t as much fun as it was when I was thirteen,” Sam replied, rubbing his back.
They walked out of the tent to find Dirk standing outside with a beach towel draped over his arm like a waiter. He was dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, and Sophie couldn’t help but think how nicely he had cleaned up. She fought hard to suppress a smile.
“I believe we had a dinner date,” he said to her with a slight bow.
“I almost forgot,” she lied.
He took her arm and escorted her behind Sam and Haasis as the group walked to the mess tent nearby. Sophie turned to follow the two men into the tent but felt Dirk suddenly tug her in the opposite direction.
“We’re not eating with the others?” she asked.
“Not unless you have a craving for spaghetti that comes out of a can,” he replied.
“No, not particularly,” she replied, shaking her head.
“Good. Then it’s off to Cape Pitt.”
He guided Sophie down to the shoreline, where they walked along the beach a short distance. When they reached a rocky ledge that jutted into the sea, Dirk turned and helped her climb over the boulder-strewn surface.
“This was the site of a Roman palace,” Sophie said, recalling the prior excavation of a large structure that featured Greek columns and a decorative pool.
“Many believe it was King Herod’s, built after he constructed the harbor,” Dirk replied, showing he had studied up on Caesarea.
“I don’t remember there being a restaurant located here,” Sophie said, with a playful grin.
“It’s just behind that last wall.”
They climbed through the ruins to the tip of the promontory. Just past a crumbled stone wall, they reached a sheltered recess that offered a commanding view of the sea. Sophie laughed when she spotted an ice chest parked beside a small hibachi, its charcoal embers glowing red-hot.
“King Herod’s Cafe, open for business. Hope you don’t mind eating alfresco,” Dirk said, spreading out the towel on a sandy spot. He quickly produced a bottle of white wine from the cooler and poured them each a glass.
“To damn fools,” he said, clinking his glass against hers. Sophie blushed, then quietly sipped her wine.
“What’s on the menu?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“Fresh sea bass, snared by yours truly this afternoon. Grilled in lemon and olive oil, and accompanied by a vegetable kabob, organically grown on a kibbutz up the road.” He held up a pair of skewers loaded with peppers, tomatoes, and onions.
“I’m sure glad I passed on the spaghetti,” Sophie replied.
Dirk threw the kabobs and a pair of fish fillets onto the small grill and quickly had dinner served. Sophie found the fresh food tasted delicious and hungrily devoured her entire plate.
“It was terrific,” she said, setting down her empty plate. “You sure you’re not a professional chef?”
Dirk laughed. “Far from it. Put me in a kitchen, and I don’t get much past peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. But show me a hot grill, and I’ll happily run amok.”
“You run amok with nice results,” she said with a smile.
As he sliced up a small melon for dessert, she asked how he liked working at NUMA.
“I couldn’t ask for a better job. I’m able to work in and around the sea, virtually anywhere in the world. Most of our projects are both interesting and fundamentally important to preserving the health of our oceans. And on top of that, I get to work closely with my family.”
He noticed a faint look of alarm cross Sophie’s face at the mention of his family.
“My father is the Director of NUMA,” he explained. “And I have a twin sister named Summer who is a NUMA oceanographer. It’s actually on account of my father that I was able to come to Israel. He relieved me on a survey project we’ve been working on along the coast of Turkey.”
“Professor Haasis told me that he has several old friends at NUMA and holds the organization in high regard.”
“He has certainly done some fine work here himself,” Dirk replied.
“So your time in Caesarea is short?”
“I’m afraid so. Two more weeks, then I must head back to Turkey.”
He passed her a plate of sliced melon, then asked, “Okay, now it’s your turn. How did you come to be an archaeologist with a gun?”
Sophie smiled. “An interest in geology and history, instilled by my father from an early age, I suppose. I love archaeology and digging up the past, but I have always felt pain at seeing our cultural treasures being looted for profit. Working at the Antiquities Authority, I feel like I can help make a difference, although we are vastly outnumbered by the bad guys.”
Dirk waved a hand toward the coastline. “Caesarea has been pretty well picked through over the centuries. You think the professor’s small diggings here are really at risk?”
“Your discovery today proved that there are still cultural riches to be found. I was actually more concerned about the grave site, which a local reporter foolishly publicized in the press. The presence of someone masquerading yesterday as an antiquities agent doesn’t help my radar any, either.”
